


Tall Girls

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clothed Sex, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Female Billy Hargrove, Female Billy Hargrove/Female Steve Harrington, Female Steve Harrington, Fingerfucking, Getting Together, Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2020, Party, Rough Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: "How do you know Billy Hargrove?"Oh, boy.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2020





	Tall Girls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stranger_steeb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stranger_steeb/gifts).



"How do you know Billy Hargrove?"

Oh, boy.

The short answer is: _I don't._ But Steve's already known as a bit of a weirdo on campus, especially among the good folks on Greek Row. Nonsensical answers when anyone deigns to pay her any attention at a crowded party isn't the way to change that.

"Oh, why? You know Billy, too?" she half-yells over the music, her voice cracking trying to stay ahead of the high notes of whatever's playing on the huge speakers in the corner.

It's innocuous enough, unless you stop to think about the implication: Random Popular Girl at Party is intrigued by Billy. Steve knows Billy. Ergo, Steve is interesting enough to talk to all of a sudden, at least for a little while.

It's the purest form of Mean Girl bullshit ever concocted, and Steve wouldn't be bothered to give a shit generally, but she's been getting invited to fewer and fewer off-campus parties for weeks now. She came down with a nasty stomach bug just before Rush Week, and her prospects have only dwindled since in a very serious way. Soon enough, she'll have to hear about the _on-campus_ university-organised events the next day in line for cafeteria yogurt. Yuck.

Strictly speaking, Steve has met and interacted with Billy on several occasions and in several interesting ways, not least of which is allowing Billy to fuck her that one time during Orientation Week in her dorm's twin bed, her roommate out but expected to return at any moment. Never mind the high of knowing they could be walked in on at any point getting her wetter and contracting harshly around Billy's fingers.

The details of how they ended up back in Steve's room aren't her at her best, she'll freely admit it. She might be a smooth-talker, but Billy never seemed like she was falling for it, merely allowing it, and Steve was too eager to keep at it. Much too obviously into it. Couldn't hide her eagerness, stumbling over her own words in her haste to get them out.

Sadly, she recalls most of the night perfectly; two glasses of peach schnapps does not even remotely a tipsy co-ed make after years of binging alongside Tommy H. To be completely honest, Steve had been bored out of her skull for the better part of an hour talking to frat dudes dumber than her at her most clueless, what the fuck, before Billy pressed her palm to the crook of her elbow and asked if they knew each other from somewhere. Masterfully avoiding that sort of landmine and turning the evening around has always been Steve's specialty.

The rest of her night spent at the party was a jumble of conversation in a raucous crowd, nothing particularly meaningful said as far as she can recall. The harshness of the overhead dorm lights turning on and then back off is when everything inside her flipped from tenuous anticipation to buzzing excitement, less of a memory and more like something happening just now.

They'd managed to rip Steve's sheer tights in the semi-darkness while attempting to get her out of them before Billy mumbled something unintelligible and slipped a finger in her around what there was of her thong's crotch. She then went hard and fast with one finger alone to begin with, but Steve was already too wet for it to be too much, though she made a sound like a sob when Billy went for another finger. Most vividly she remembers it being wet and noisy, utterly sloppy, and exactly what Steve wanted and knew Billy Hargrove could give her. Billy seemed like the type, from what rumours Steve's heard.

They'd known each other vaguely in high school, but Billy hung out with the metalheads and burnouts, while Steve divided her time between cheerleading and eating Nancy Wheeler out on the down-low. Not exactly part of the same world.

It's not that she misses high school, but college hasn't been _exactly_ everything she'd hoped it would be when she made the trip out from Indiana, or even when she had first started applying to colleges at Nancy's and her parents' encouragement. Billy might be a reminder of everything she left behind, but also, weirdly enough, a comforting presence in a campus of literal thousands.

Until now, the most interesting thing—and she is loath to admit this even inside her own head—has been getting the daylights fucked out of her by Billy Hargrove before courses even started. Thus maybe not so much comforting as very fucking annoying.

At the time, the feeling Billy might disappear into thin air scratched at the edges of her brain, even foggy as it was from how hot it made her to have Billy on top of her, so she'd shuffled and squirmed her way onto her belly before they really got going, because if she was going to disappear without a trace, Steve didn't want to watch it happening.

She didn't—disappear, that is—, but Steve got to hide her helpless moans and gasps into her bedsheets anyway, which was something.

Now she wonders whether anyone in fact saw Billy slip out, or whether her roommate had been pissed to find Steve had been hooking up in their shared space without any prearranged signal or whatever people living in dorms did, and thus spread it around that Steve and Billy are _like that_ , and if that's the reason cool people at parties are all of a sudden walking up to Steve to ask about Billy.

The basement they're currently in has a pool table in one corner, a gaggle of frat-boy meatheads using it for a game of beer pong, and Steve spots Billy laughing attractively around her solo plastic cup. Steve's not about to go over there or anything stupid like that, but she knows approximately two people at this house party, neither of whom is hanging out in the basement. Not that Steve knows even them all that well. Not that she knows anyone anywhere near well. The girl currently going on about Billy is, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger. Steve listens to her babble on, eyes not yet ready to leave Billy.

Which is maybe her mistake. Like, Billy is probably used to being watched, but Steve probably went overboard. Maybe someone near her pointed out Steve's sending stalker vibes. Whatever it was, it gets Billy to turn her head fractionally to the left, enough to spot Steve and make eye contact.

Steve gulps. Too bad she's drinking from her own solo cup right then. She gags unattractively and barely manages to avoid snorting cheap beer everywhere. She hiccups and recovers valiantly enough, though the chick from before has already moved on, probably around the time Steve started choking into her drink for no reason in a way that's decidedly robbed her of any newly-acquired cool points.

When she glances around wildly for Billy it's plainly obvious, even from a distance, that she's already engaged in what looks to be a far more interesting conversation than anything Steve could ever hope to come up with on a good day, the best of fucking days, which today has definitely not been.

Steve downs her drink in one go before going off to search this shitpile for something stronger than keg beer.

*

For the record, Steve is so not drunk. But she stumbles her way inside her dorm and practically faceplants into the bed, kicking her shoes off as a last conscious act before it's lights out, baby.

Waking up with all of her clothes on and her eyelashes sticking together is far from her idea of fun, but there you have it. Nor is it particularly beneficial towards her throbbing headache the fact that someone is basically knocking her door down at what must be an ungodly hour. Once she finds her phone, which ends up being miraculously in possession of enough battery life to tell her the time and that she has way too many unread notifications, that turns out to be just before noon, but her point still stands as she stumbles her way to the door to _make it stop_.

Her roommate's not in her bed, and Steve remembers locking the door last night behind her somehow, which is not a good look, but there you have it. Unless she wants to be in the dog house and deal with cold shoulders and passive-aggressive bullshit for weeks, she may have to start with the apologies straight away.

Too bad her attempt to look sweetly contrite as she swings the door open is met with Billy Hargrove on her doorstep. Sleep-addled and headachey, Steve checks for her stray roommate anyway, as if she's about to materialise out of thin air behind Billy and they can all forget Hargrove is here at all.

"Looking for somebody?" Her eyebrow is cocked, which only serves to emphasise how casually made up it is. No-makeup makeup, casually cool, while Steve's reasonably sure by the tugging on her eyes that at least one false lash is hanging off of her eyelid.

She drags her palm across her eye, thankful nothing ends up being out of place, though her eyeliner surely bled in the night, but beggars and choosers, etcetera. "I was not," Steve says, leaning forward. Not in that over-eager way you have to put up with. She's paced. Sort of. Just to be on the safe side, she backs off a little.

Lips twitching, elbows braced back against the door jamb now, Billy drawls, "Must've been mistaken, princess."

Steve licks her lips before she can help herself. "Don't call me that." It comes out as a half-whisper. She meant to say something different, less catty and more casually confident, but Steve's always had this problem with being casual when it came to people she's fucked, or have fucked her. She broke out the L-word with Nancy after their unofficial break-up like a desperate dork. So much for being cool in college.

"Why shouldn't I?"

It's become patently apparent that Steve has immediately lost hold of whatever grip she may have had on this conversation. Staring into Billy's eyes, it's clear she should be counting her losses, backing away and asking why Billy is on her doorstep to begin with, but the idiot side of her is at the wheel, driving her forward into unknown territory.

She's about to blatter some response, because Billy is still just standing there on her doorstep, when Billy says, "Missed you last night." It's so very obviously flirty-mocking Steve doesn't know what to do with herself. That used to be _her_ trick.

"I was there." Billy hmms. And, because Steve's idiot side truly is at the wheel, she adds, "Could've said hello."

"Hello," Billy mutters. Steve can't do anything but scoff. "You've been kinda absent a lot lately at these things."

Yeah, you've got to get invited first, but Steve isn't _quite_ at that stage of pathetic. Therefore it's no surprise she ends up shrugging wordlessly while her brain regroups. There's a limit on loser.

It must be taking too long for her to say anything else, and Billy is still just standing there, only thing she's willing to say is another _hmm_ , which is hardly helping Steve be sociable and shit. She settles for sort of shrugging one shoulder in invitation, because they might as well move this show inside.

Funnily enough, Billy's the one who leans in to kiss Steve first, a hard kiss, roughly sucking at her lower lip as if she's got something to prove. Maybe she does. She's misinterpreted an invitation inside as an invitation for more. Steve's always thought Billy had to be a competitive motherfucker for a reason.

She leans into it anyway, eyes already falling closed, the door noisily slamming closed behind them. She might be hungover and on the verge of being a social pariah, but Steve's never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> ETA 2021/01/01 My Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


End file.
